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"For a woman to succeed in this world, they must be twice as tough as any man."

0 · 452 views · located in Isles of Penumbria

a character in “Forth Rode the King”, as played by Boomstick


~ Kisandra 'Witch of the Mist' ~


~ Age ~

~ Occupation ~
'Overlord' of the Mist Raiders

~ Biography ~
Kisandra was an orphan living at Staffenholm, a large town belonging to the Highland warden, and ruled by Bann Theodric. The town was a breeding pit for the Highlands scum from bandits and murderers to thieves and rapist. It is not a place that an orphan easily survives in, but Kisandra was one of the lucky few in that she was taken in by an older girl, Sophia. Sophia had also been born an orphan and had spent most of her early life stealing for food, and honestly, life had not changed, but Sophia once told her, she just couldn't leave behind that small baby, all bundled up in furs, on the side of the street. Despite being only fifteen, herself, she attempted to raise Kisandra... but stealing just wasn't enough.

Sophia was an attractive girl, and so she used what the gods gave her to earn enough money to support both of them. It is a dangerous job, being a 'working girl', but she would always tell Kisandra that is was worth it just to see her smiling when she brought home a little bit of bread and cheese. As Kisandra got older, Sophia began to teach her the tricks of the trade from pick-pocketing to true theft. Even in the corrupt town, few people suspected a young girl of 8 to be lifting their purses as she smiled at them with her large smile and gap teeth. While Kisandra went to bed hungry often, she can honestly say that those were the best years in her life, but they weren't to last. Sophia was murdered by a client. It seemed the client had a sick fetish that Sophia matched perfectly, and the client hired her only to stab her thirty-seven times and leave her dead on the side of the road. Nobody cared about a prostitute, only one little girl did, and one child cannot make a difference no matter how hard she tries.

Without Sophia, Kisandra was forced into the street by the landlord that owned their house as her small thefts weren't enough to make the rent. The town was a dangerous place, and to avoid dying like Sophia, she took to leaving to the forest where she spent most of her time when she was not thieving. It did pay off as she soon learned every nook and cranny of the surrounding forest. What trails to take, which ones not to. Most importantly, she learned what trails merchants took which certain groups found very interesting.

Only eleven, she was contacted by a small time group of thugs who were looking to 'acquire' some goods from a caravan coming from the lowlands, and Kisandra was to be their guide. They offered her five silvers for her work which was more money they she had ever seen, and so she readily agreed. Her abilities paid off as not only was she able to pick out where the merchants would be coming through, but also a good place for the outlaws to attack. As a child, she was not prepared for the sight of men slaughtering each other. The sight of a man trying to hold his entrails in, but above all, the scene of the merchants daughter trying to run only to be tackled to the ground and 'used' as entertainment. Kisandra learned just how terrifying it was to be a woman.

After that event, she took to wearing boys clothing and even tying a sash around her chest to keep her budding breast a secret. She cut her hair short and tried to talk as gruff as she could, and she continued in her new 'profession'. Years past, and Kisandra earned something of a reputation for her ability to navigate the forest and mountains of the Highlands, but it was not always so nice. Sometimes merchants would take different roads, and the men she was leading would refuse to pay her cut, they would rape women and if she tried to stop them she would receive a bloody lip for her efforts, and so she stopped trying. The weak were destined to die it seemed.

At seventeen, Kisandra gave up trying to hide the fact that she was a woman because the sash was no longer doing the trick, but she had a reputation so what was the worst thing that could happen? Sadly, the fates were not kind to those that tempt them. It was on a normal trip that the worst happened. The band she was leading had arrived only to find out the merchant had chosen a longer route, and their leader was far from happy as he knew his men were only barely following him, and he knew that if he did not do something soon they would revolt, and so he offered them 'entertainment' in the form of Kisandra. She tried to fight back, but it was a wasted effort. The leader went last, but he did not get away unharmed, as Kisandra stabbed her two fingers into his eye and tore it out. Blinded in anger, the man drove his dagger into her stomach, and they left her to die in the middle of the forest.

Despite bleeding out, being naked in an icy wilderness, and broken; Kisandra managed to crawl to a nearby fishing hut where the family nursed her back to health, but she lost her two fingers to frostbite as they had been wet with the blood of the man who raped her. A small price to pay for taking the mans eye. Kisandra had never felt so helpless and useless in her life, she was a husk of what she once was, but that emptiness was replaced with rage, and she left the hut with a new goal: Revenge.

Over the next year, armed with only a fishing spear and a dagger, she hunted down every man that had touched her. Some she gave quick deaths while others she tortured. She finally caught up to the leader as he was enjoying a 'working girl'. Knocking him out with a vase, she tied and bound him. It was a lot of effort, but she drug the man into the forest and tied him to a tree. When the man awoke, he talked down to her. Said that she had secretly enjoyed it. That she was a whore, but she said nothing instead she undressed him and began to lather honey onto him and then she watched. As bugs and animals came to him to tear and devoured him. Deep down, she loved every moment of it all. The power and control she had over the one who hurt her so deeply, it was like a drug. An addiction she had to indulge, and so the career of Kisandra the Raider was born.

Leading bands of men, Kisandra quickly earned a reputation as the most fierce and terrifying raider in the Highlands, but she never targeted the villages and people of the Highlands, instead she preyed upon the caravans from other lands, and even, at times, venturing out to raid the isolated villages of the Lowlands. She never attacked the Highlands as to not turn the people against her. She needed a place to sell the loot, and what better place then in her own back yard?

Witch of the Mist. This term was given to her when she attacked a Lowlands village. She had waited and waited for weeks until the weather cooled and a thick mist had rose from the river from which she sprang forth with her men, looting and burning the village. The survivors said she appeared from the mist like a demon and as quickly as she came, she disappeared. To help this myth, Kisandra moved her base of operations to the Misty Vale mountain and cemented her reputation as the Witch of the Mist for she knows just how powerful fear can be. Many have tried to stop her, and all have failed. When faced against large forces, Kisandra uses her superior knowledge of the terrain to escape and elude them, and against smaller ones, she employs ambushes and hit and runs to weaken them down, break their morale, and force them to retreat.

~ Description ~

Kisandra could be described as attractive by a brave soul, but her face is too hard for most men. Her blues eyes are cold and hold little warmth, and it is not unusual for her gaze to send shivers down the spines of whatever has her attention. Due to her native habitat deep within the icy mountains of the Highlands; she has pale ivory skin. Her lips are one of the most attractive parts about her; they are a light pink with a full bottom lip. Rarely does she smile, but when she does, she has a small gap between her two front top teeth. Her long dirty blond hair is tied back and hangs down to the middle of her back. A brave, and foolish man, once told her that her 'breast' were lacking as indeed, she is not as 'bountiful' as most other women which Kisandra counts as a blessing. Her hips are wide, and in another life she would be a prime candidate for making a family. While 'attractive', her blemishes keep her from ever being described as beautiful. On her stomach is a large scar were a blade was thrust in. A long scar runs down her left eye from a dagger that was dug into her forehead, her hands are calloused from years of wielding swords and drawing on bow strings, but it is her left hand that draws the most attention. Her pointer and middle fingers are an sickly blue as they have lost all feeling from frost bite.

~ Personality ~
Kisandra loves power, and for her, power means to be dominate. Losing control to another is unthinkable to her for she never wishes to be helpless, and refuses to. She is a 'hard' woman due to the fact that in this world a woman has to be twice as tough as a man in order to survive and being a leader of a band of outlaws and turncoats is a dangerous occupation. It is not uncommon for members to look to her position with envy, or at her with lust, but few have ever tried for Kisandra is quick with her blade and cruel with her methods. She does not believe in turning the cheek or in forgiving. The last man that tried to rape her was publicly castrated while still alive and left to bleed out in the snow.

Due to her fear of losing control, concepts such as marriage are unthinkable as to her, marriage is the ultimate cage. To forever lock oneself away under the domination of another. It is not to say that she doesn't have 'needs' for all people have such. Generally, she satisfy such things with handsome men or beautiful women they capture in their raiders. She would never sleep with one of the Mist Raiders because, "Once they see you squirming around naked; they lose all respect for you."

Compassion is something she killed long ago as most people who are 'spared' in their raids are used. The pretty ones are usually, 'used' by the men and then sold to slavers along with the men. One thing should always be remembered with the 'Witch of the Mist' she does not forgive, and she never forgets.

~ Equipment ~
Kisandra is armed with a short sword, short bow, spear, and a round shield. Like most who live in the Highlands; she is donned in heavy brown fur that drape around her shoulders as well as a heavy hood from when it snows. Underneath, she wears treated leather that has metal plates added for extra protection. The metal plates are on her shoulders, forearms, thighs, and chest. She wears a small metal cap with a nose guard as a helmet. Her armor is lighter then what is used by most others to allow for greater movement.

Short Sword
Short Bow

~ Mist Raiders ~

The Mist Raiders is a generous term for the men Kisandra leads. Most of them are simple bandits and outlaws that have joined her. They would stand little chance against trained soldiers in a fair fight. Their 'stronghold' which is truly just a set of huts set up much like a small tribal village. It is located on a plateau high up on the Mist Vale mountain, one of the higher peaks within the Highlands. Their is a deep trench dug around the 'village' that has sharpened log stakes protruding out with a palisade wall stretching around it. This defense is more to keep animals out then attackers as the Mist Raiders would simply disperse should a large force get close enough to the base.

They tend to be armed with whatever they can have which gives them a distinctive rabble look. Some may be veterans and wear chain-mail and wield longswords, while others may have simple clubs and spears and be wearing simple cloth under their furs. At the moment, they number 46.

So begins...

Kisandra's Story

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Kisandra's eyes snapped open as screams pierced the cold mountain air, "H-help me! Get off of me!". A woman's voice, Kisandra mused as she lay on her bed of furs staring at the roof of her hut which consisted of yet more furs thrown over timber. She wasn't quite sure how long she had been sleeping, but she could see the rays of light peeking through the front flap of her small hovel, but she was content to rest until her mind fully awoke. "Get off my sister!" This time it was a man's voice, and then she sat bolt right as her mind snapped to focus. Not a man, more like a boy, and she understood just what was going on.

Kisandra bolted up right pushing the furs off of her. She was dressed in a red silk shirt, black cotton breeches, and thick sheep skin boots filled with fox fur, all of which she had taken from the corpse of a plump merchants wife. Kisandra learned long ago to never undress when sleeping in the mountains of the Highlands for just furs and a fire weren't enough to keep the frost away. She reached under her pillow, which was just a sack filled with soften wool, to grab her shortsword and buckled it around her waist, before swinging her fur cloak around her shoulders and buckling the clasp. If she had more time, she would put on her armor, but if she did so; she would arrive too late. The female voice called out again, "Conner, please.." Even from a distance, she knew the girl was sobbing like a pathetic wretch, and the boys voice roared in anger, "I swear I will kill you if you touch her!" which was met with howls of laughter.

Pushing back the flap of her hut, Kisandra stepped out and gazed at the sight before her. Her hut was situated on a slight hill overlooking the rest of the camp because, frankly, she trusted none of them and this allowed her to give them the feeling that she was always watching, and usually, she was. A ring of men wearing mostly assortments of furs and armor stood in a large circle, Kisandra picked out the voice of the boy; a handsome enough lad of perhaps seventeen winters was being held down by two large men, and if her memory served correctly they were the brothers: Maverick and Jonah. Not a lick of sense between either of them. They were forcing the lad to watch as another large brute was on top of a woman trying to rip off her clothing, but to the woman's credit; she was putting up quiet a struggle. The large brute was one Kisandra was quite familiar with; a troublemaker and a constant headache for her: Renald. A man who seemed to hate the fact that he had to listen to her, a woman. She allowed herself another quick moment to examine Renald. His face was far from attractive as it was covered in pox marks and scars, and his left hand was missing two fingers. He lost those two fingers the last time he had challenged her. After disarming him, she forced him to beg as she removed those two fingers, to serve as a reminder of why she was in charge.

Kisandra slowly descended the hill, her feet crunching through the snow, and as she neared the members in the circle spotted her and began to move and make a path for her not liking the anger in her eyes, and definitely not wishing to be the poor man that got in her way. Finally making her way to the center, she saw Renald staring to work on the front of his pants trying to undo the ties. Rushing up, she brought her leg up and planted her boot in the side of his face sending him rolling on the ground. To his credit, Renald sprung to his feet quickly drawing his longsword, "Who.." His words slid away as did the color in his face when he realized who he had drawn his sword on; Kisandra threw her head back and started to laugh, "Me." She said finally before drawing her shortsword.

Not wanting to look like a coward, Renald kept his blade up, "Why are you interfering?" He demanded, but Kisandra crouched into her stance and began to move closer keeping her shortsword at the ready, "Why are you talking?" She mused closing in, "Lets have some fun now. I wonder how you are going to piss with one finger." She taunted, and as she drew closer; Renald lost his nerve throwing down his sword, and putting up his hands, his bravado forgotten; "I-I'm sorry, I just meant to have a little sport.. I-its been so long since we have left this.." Renald said trying to explain, and he closed his eyes waiting for that shortsword thrust when Kisandra was mere feet away, but instead, he felt a hand on the side of his face.

Kisandra had to fight down her urge to puke as touching his face was revolting. The pox and scars made him near hideous to look at, and he smelled nearly just as bad. "Oh, I know." She leaned up to whisper, "Trust me, I know." Despite her soft tone, Renald couldn't suppress the shivers that ran down his spine, but they were forgot as he pitched forward and groaned in pain as something smashed into his groin. Kisandra had smashed her knee into the fork between his legs as she had him distracted and quickly pulled herself from his path as he fell to his knees.

"But what did I say!" She roared before kicking him in the ribs and sending him rolling on his back. Her yelling was more for the benefit of those watching, "What did I say!?" Kisandra demanded again, but Renald was still wheezing and so couldn't answer, "I told you not to touch the virgin, didn't I?" When Renald didn't respond, Kisandra dropped herself on his chest sending out what little air he had managed to collect, "Didn't I!" She demanded again stabbing her shortsword into the ground next to his head. Renald managed to nod, his eyes wide in terror.

Kisandra pulled back her fist and sent it crashing down into his nose, the sound of something cracking filled the air as blood spurted from his nose and onto his furs, but she didn't stop as she continued to rain fist down smashing his face and doing nothing to improve his looks, "You stupid." She said as she hit him again and again, "Son of a whore!"

Grabbing her shortsword, she got off the man who started turned over and started to try and crawl away, his survival instincts telling him to flee, and she let him flee. Kisandra turned to look at the ring of men before pointing her blade at the young woman, "Do you have any idea how much a virgin is worth!? Do you!?" She said, "More then any of you dogs are worth to me."

Kisandra pointed to two of the men to pick up Renald, "Clean that filth up."

"T-thank you." The woman said, looking up at her with a sickening hope in her eyes. Not wanting to damage the goods and strike her face, Kisandra opted to kick her in the stomach, "Shut your mouth, worm."

The boy who had been silent before screamed at her, "I'll kill you, you bitch!" Kisandra snapped her eyes at the young man struggling against the bandits holding him down, and she flashed a smile, Renalds blood staining some of her teeth, "Jonah. Let him up." The two brothers scrambled off and joined the circle happy to have been excluded from her rage, Kisandra threw her sword at the boys face, the blade sticking in the ground a few feet away. "Pick it up. Let us see what your made of boy."

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The sword lay on the snow mere feet from the boy and as the seconds past; he made no move, and Kisandra had to admit, he was a smart pup. "Pick it up." Kisandra ordered smacking the ground again before shuffling side to side growing impatient, "I'll make you a deal. You manage to even scratch me, and your sister can go." The boy glared at her in silence before slowly reaching for the hilt of the blade, "You promise?" He asked through clench teeth.

"On my mothers sweet bosom." Kisandra said holding up her left hand in a mocking salute. The boy wasted no time, jumping ot his feet and charging with the short blade, and Kisandra would be lying if she said she wasn't worried. Even a novice can beat a veteran with luck, and being unarmed was really just for show. She always took the time to reaffirm her position in the minds of the Raiders because they were a slow lot and would quickly forget otherwise. Unclasping her fur cloak, she swung it around her body to cover herself, which caused the boy to pause, to hesitate just for a moment before bull-rushing in and launching an overhanded swing.

Kisandra flung the cloak at the boy who brought up his free hand up in reflex to block the cloak, but when he pulled it down he saw a fist flying at him. She had used the distraction to move herself within striking distance, and caught surprised; he was unable to react fast enough as her fist crunched into his nose sending him stumbling backwards. Not wanting to give him time to recover, Kisandra stepped forward and shot her fist up in a powerful uppercut catching the boy in the nose. She had been aiming for the jaw, but instinct told the boy to move, and so he threw his head back, regrettably, it threw his nose in the path and once more it crunched as blood shot out of it and over her hand. Losing his balance, the boy stumbled to the ground swinging his arms widely, not paying attention as Kisandra assumed victory, the short sword lashed out and nicked her arm sending a warm trickle of blood to run down.

The boy was more bewildered then Kisandra as he gazed at the silk shirt quickly turning a darker shade, his look almost comedic as blood poured down the front of his face and tears of pain ran down his cheeks. Kisandra growled and rushed forward crashing her knee into his face and sending the blade flying from his hand and a jolt to run down her leg as she hit a nerve. With the fight over, the boy sprawled on the ground, and the slight wound to her arm; She soundly found the whole thing amusing and tossed her head back, her hair cascading down her back and started to laugh. It was all... so odd. The circle of bandits began to chuckle among themselves not sure why she was laughing, but not wanting to be the one who didn't get the 'joke'.

The boy spoke in gasp as he couldn't breath through his nose, "You promised." He reminded her, and Kisandra gave a shrug, "I lied. I am a bandit. I do that." The boy tried to scrunch up his face in anger, but the only result was more blood flowing from his nose, a shame. The lad would have grown in to a handsome man, but Kisandra had seen enough broken noses to know that would be one for the books. A flat bridge and a crooked nostril would be what was left of a thin sharp nose.

"But." She said, and the chuckling stopped as if it had never been there, "I will spare your sister, but you work for me." Kisandra stated. It was not an offer. It was a demand. The boy would become a raider, and in return, his sister would survive. Of course, now that she was no longer selling the girl, her honor, or virginity, meant nothing to Kisandra. The boy would have to get stronger or watch his sister get raped, but it was no longer her problem.

"Boys." Kisandra said leaning down to pick up her shortsword, and ignoring the boy still lying in the snow, "The old king is dead." She heard a snide comment about choking on his own jewels, and Kisandra flashed a white smile, "As if he could find them. No, he probably died underneath the behind of an ugly lord's pig." She said motioning with her hands as if she was 'mounting' something in front of her, "Anyways." She said to cut off the chuckling, "This presents an... interesting possibility." She started before closing her eyes and pinching her nose when she noticed the sea of blank stares, "We are going raiding." Kisandra simplified it barely containing her annoyance, "Get ready." She pointed out seven of the Raiders, "You are staying here. Watch the girl and the boy." She commanded, and turned to the other Raiders. Forty in all, "Its time we went to the lowlands and paid those maidens a few visits, I am feeling a little... well, adventurous."